


Treat you better

by banrionsi



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Idk is kinda cute, hondos ur homie and yeah he's goofy but also like damn he's got intense eyes when he's serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banrionsi/pseuds/banrionsi
Summary: At a feast on Hondos pirate base, you sulk as your current lover ignores you and eyes other women. Hondo thinks you can do better.
Relationships: Hondo Ohnaka/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Treat you better

_Why do you have such terrible taste in men?_

The thought plays on loop, a tinny sardonic voice scoffing in the back of your head, while you sip from your tankard. The rum is…well it leaves a lot to be desired but it’s alcoholic so hey, you can’t complain too much. From over the rim, you eye your lover across the table. His chin is covered with grease as he tears into a roasted leg of something that you are fairly certain was squawking around base yesterday.

He is completely one of the boys as of this feast, slapping his leg and guffawing at pretty ladies walking past. One such lady bends down to fill his tankard and you wish you weren’t watching so closely so that you would miss his blatantly wandering gaze. Literally, sat right across from you and it as if you aren’t even in the room. Not that you two are exclusive (obviously, you chide) but kriff, you had thought you were a little more than just a bed warmer. But in the end, here you are feeling rather like a discarded tissue. Alone in the middle of a heaving crowd.

So deep in the pits of your own self pity, you don’t spot Hondo until two hands clap down on your shoulders and pull you back to lean against the soft leather and linen covering his chest. 

“Oi get off!”, You scramble from the foreign embrace before a deep chuckle reaches your ears and the familiar scents of sultry jasmine and amber court your nose.

Settling down beside you with a groan, Hondo bumps into your side with an elbow and quirks his brow at you. 

“My hosting skills not up to scratch hmm? Maybe I should’ve ordered a batch of, how do you call it, whore doves?”  
  
His tone is completely innocent and questioning as he snags your tankard off you and slurps from it but the glint in his eye tells you he knows exactly what he mispronounced. A pirate maybe, but not unintelligent.

Either way, it pulls a quiet giggle from you and yo gently pry your drink back from him. “Hors d’oeuvres”, you correct him, “But honestly everyone at home says it wrong too so don’t lose sleep on it”.

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

He flags down a server for his own rum, knee propped up against the table tapping it impatiently with his fingers. His eyes slide back to meet yours but he finds them already occupied. Following your line of sight, he spots the reason for your disquiet and hums a soft noise of discontent.

Leaning in closer to you, he lets his gaze fall over your face and trail down the curve of your cheek, the crease between your brows. His soft voice is what jolts you from your reverie. He speaks low, just for you, and his eyes are earnest and serious in a manner you rarely see outside of his business.

“You can do better. He isn’t even remotely near your level”

And then he leans back on his seat, material of his worn trousers stretching tight over his thighs, framing his lean form. 

You lick your lips, feel how strangely dry your mouth is all of a sudden, and shift your body around to straddle the bench and focus all your attention on him. The air is different somehow, charged. The rest of the celebration fades into dim nothing, only clearly seeing the sharp ridge of his jaw and the curl of his lips he perpetually seems to wear.

“Who here _is_ on my level?” 

Hondo doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, just glides until he is on two feet and towering over you all lithe limbs. You take his outstretched hand. 

The next feast, your eyes are only fixed on him and his on you.


End file.
